A Nice Game of Chess
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: The Ark wasn't exactly overflowing with amenities. But even 95 years after the apocalypse that leveled Earth, one could still enjoy chess.


**A Nice Game of Chess**

"Y'know," said Clark. "Way I see it, chess is only going to get less relevant as time goes on."

"What? Chess is an eternal game. It'll never get old."

"Isn't that what your dad said?"

"…maybe?"

"Yeah, thought so."

"Okay, so why _isn't_ chess eternal?"

Clark leant back in her chair, biding her time. Partly to articulate her answer to Wells's question, partly to plan her next move. Wells was playing…"well," today. Someone might indulge in some wordplay there, but this was chess, not English. Didn't help that he played well most of the time regardless.

"Well?" her friend asked. "Why isn't chess eternal?"

"Think about it," said Clark. "Chess deals with kings, queens, bishops, knights, and all that, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So how many of those things are left in the world then?" she asked. "None of them."

"I dunno, Vera Kane might be a bishop of sorts."

Clark pressed on. "So when humanity finally gets to go back to Earth, we're not going to be going back to a monarchy anytime soon. So that rules out kings and queens. Doubt there'll be any castles left standing after the bombs. And even if there's some horses still around, doubt we'll have knights in shining armour." As if to emphasize her point, she moved her knight forward, threatening Wells's castle. "So, all that leaves are bishops if we're feeling generous."

"And pawns." Wells moved a pawn, protecting his castle. "Can't forget the pawns."

Clark didn't say anything. Some people claimed that the people of the Ark were pawns, that they were thralls of the Council, who could float them at the drop of a hat (not that anyone actually wore hats mind you). Some even said that they'd never get back to Earth at all, and the Council was happy to hold onto power as long as the Ark (and by extension, humanity) survived. She wasn't one of those people. She knew that she'd live and die in space, like everyone else onboard the Ark, but she knew Wells's father well enough ( _that damn word again_ ) to understand that while he was hard, he was fair. Of all the ways she could die on the Ark, floating wasn't going to be among them.

Morbid thoughts, but at fifteen, she and Wells were getting to that stage. No longer children, not yet legally adults. Caught adrift in the 2000 plus souls that composed the remnants of the human race, like a metaphor for the Ark itself. Advanced enough to keep in space for over ninety years, not so advanced that they could go off and find a new home to colonize. Earth was a radiation-soaked hellhole, but that at least was a temporary state of affairs. Or so her Earth Studies teacher repeatedly claimed. It was four light years to the nearest star, and even if they reached it, there was nothing to say there wouldn't be a giant sign saying "welcome to Alpha Centauri. Now go home."

"Clark?" Wells asked. "Your move."

She studied the board, looking at the pieces that were left on it. Only about a quarter of them were actual chess pieces, the rest of them were rusted machine parts that had to stand in for the board's players. Their ancestors had brought dozens of chess boards into space with them, most of which were now public property, but time had taken its toll on the original pieces. Now, Wells's "castle" was a large screw, while her "knight" was…actually, she wasn't sure what it was. Just a piece of metal that ever so slightly resembled a horse.

"Clark?" Wells asked again.

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec." She frowned, weighing her options. A knight for a castle would usually be a good trade, but it was the only knight she had left, while Wells still had one of his own. She had more pieces overall, but she knew Wells – he played the long game. He could lose his pawns in droves and still come out on top, coming at you in ways you didn't expect. Gingerly, she made the decision to trade, taking Wells's knight. And just as gingerly, she watched as her knight was de-horsed, and sent to the board's side. Fated to watch yet another battle.

 _How many battles have these pieces seen anyway?_

She brought out her queen, sending it diagonally across the board. Time for the big guns, as her father would say. As Wells studied the board, she reflected on her earlier question – how many battles had the chess pieces seen? Not that they were alive or anything, but with the lack of any living thing on the Ark outside humans and bacteria, the people would often anthropomorphise various objects. She ran the math – 95 years, at least one match per day, with 365.25 days per year…

 _Huh?_

She watched as Wells moved his king out. The move didn't seem to have any purpose to it. Without thinking, she sent her castle (her last one, compared to Wells's two) up the board. "Check."

He moved his bishop, protecting the king from the castle. Clark took a moment…not including this year, if she just went for 94…

 _A lot._

It wasn't a good answer, but she moved her bishop in turn. "Check."

He moved his queen, again protecting his king.

 _34,634 battles at least._ She used the castle, taking the bishop. "Check."

His king took the bishop. Her other bishop took the queen. Clark smirked…and lost it as he sent a castle down the board. "Check," he said.

Frowning, she moved her king up a space. And frowned much harder as he sent his other castle down the board to the next space. "Check."

She moved the king again, hugging the side of the board. Wells moved his knight. "Check."

Wells had her on the defensive. He'd lost his queen, but he'd got her on the defence. True to form, he'd taken a heavy blow for what he might call "the greater good." For a moment, Clark wanted to turn the whole board upside down - after all, if chess was meant to be "eternal," and a metaphor for war as a whole, then turning it upside down was surely a valid move, right? After all, after centuries of playing proverbial chess, their ancestors had decided to turn over the board in a storm of nuclear fire, eradicating not only the pieces and the board, but the players as well. Course, Clark _didn't_ want to be reduced to her constituent atoms, but maybe…

She moved her king again, taking it diagonally towards her queen. If Wells wanted to chase her, fine, but he'd be slapped if he got too close. She took a good look at the board – she had one bishop, one castle, one queen, and a scattering of pawns. He had two castles, one knight, one bishop, and a scattering of pawns as well. Right now, it was hard to say who had the upperhand – would quality win, or quantity?

Wells paused, then moved his bishop close to his knight. She moved her queen. On and on they moved their pieces, hers forming around her king, his separate from his king. Wells going for the kill, Clark on the defensive. Not the usual state of affairs, she reflected.

"How many battles have these guys seen?" she asked.

"What?"

"How many battles?" she asked. She'd come to the answer herself, but damn if this wasn't getting tiring, as the two danced around each other, oblivious to anything else going on around them. "I mean, how many times have we sent these guys to kill each other?"

"Y'know, I never really stopped to count." Wells moved a pawn. Again. He was doing that a lot.

"Come on, guess?"

"I dunno…a million?"

"A million?" she asked.

Wells moved the pawn again. "Like I said, I never counted."

"Well, I have." She moved her queen, in a vain attempt to lure Wells out. "I…" She trailed off, as Wells moved his pawn again. "Shit."

Wells smirked – she now understood his plan. Get a pawn to the other side of the board. She'd been so focused on trying to attack his king, she'd assumed the pawns were him buying time while he shored up his defence. Now, she realized that it was his long game. She moved her queen. He moved his castle, protecting the pawn.

 _Shit._

She moved her queen again. He moved his second castle.

 _Shit!_

She couldn't take out the pawn without losing the queen. If Wells got the pawn to the other end though, he'd get a queen. Either way, the match was nearly at its end. In desperation, she moved the queen towards his king. "Check."

The king moved. She moved her queen again. "Check."

Again the king moved. Closer and closer to the castles. Sooner or later, any threat she made to the king could be met by a castle simply taking her queen. She moved her queen back, and a move later, his pawn had become a queen, and the game was as good as over.

In five moves, it was. She leant back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Another battle. Another loss. Right now, the nuclear option didn't seem so horrific.

"Good game," Wells said, sticking out a hand.

Clark swatted it aside – not in malice, but in jest. Wells had won, fair and square, and done it for the tenth day running. She'd hoped by now she'd have learnt to understand his moves, to not always go in for the kill when his strategy often revolved around sacrificing parts of his army for the greater good. She sighed, and watched as Wells got to his feet, stretching. They'd been here nearly an hour, and the Ark's night cycle would begin soon.

"Y'know," Clark said, as she remained seated, "you could let me win once."

"I could," Wells said. "But would that make you feel better?"

"Okay, then pretend to try, but don't, and let me win," Clark said. "That way I get the actual gratification of knowing that hey, Jaha Junior isn't infallible."

"Yeah…no." He patted Clark on the shoulder. "Relax, you'll get there someday."

"Someday. Right." She forced a smile. "I'll see through you soon enough, Mister Human Shield."

Wells shrugged and smiled. Clark, for her part, did too. Wells was good at taking punishment as part of the long game. And win or lose, she could still see the humour in it.

Two years later, it didn't seem so funny.


End file.
